My despair with meetings is reasonable: talking about issues doesn't intrinsically effect them.
"Meetings. Don't we love meetings? Every day. Twice a day. We talk... I bet if I blew the conch this minute, the'd come running. Then we'd be, you know, very solemn, and someone would say we ought to build a jet, or a submarine, or a TV set. When the meeting was over they'd work for five minutes, then wander off..." (Golding, Lord of the Flies; 51).Talking requires doing. Faith, James says, is no different. Thus, I can talk until I'm blue in the face about sound equipment and building modifications, but the discussion doesn't manifest a mixing board and contractor. That requires a second step: a service order. Furthermore, talking is always in community; doing is often in isolation. (The inverse, of course, would be lunacy and co-dependency.)
I read in isolation. I pray in isolation. I prepare sermons and activities and outreach events in isolation. But if I call a meeting, there is a quorum. People love to gather. I need a conch.
Actually, I just need to ask people to do with me.